


How Many This Month?

by Helioste (themedic_josef)



Series: The Collector [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: But also not, Gen, Time to explore the dead ghosts thing again, brooding vanguard, everyone is miserable for a good reason, miserable vanguard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-21 12:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themedic_josef/pseuds/Helioste
Summary: The Collector files their monthly report, and their results don't settle well with the Vanguard. Then again, why would a report on dead Ghosts settle well with anyone?





	1. Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, Collector time again! I'm really enjoying fleshing out this character and I've even drawn them a little. I'm also looking into maybe making another tumblr account to be able to post the multitude of Destiny things I've made up, including my character and his story with Lord Shaxx, the Collector and a couple of other OCs myself and my friend made up! If and when I do get around to making it, I'll post the URL here for those that are interested!
> 
> This is the second fic in The Collector series, the first being 'Guide Them Home'. If you haven't read that one, I suggest you do as it introduces what the Collector does on a basic level and I'll be doing more things for them in the future! Thank you for reading!

The Collector stood calmly before the Vanguard, listening to each of them talk to one another before carefully choosing a lapse in the conversation to present their reports. They all turned to them one by one and they could see the grimaces behind each Vanguard’s eyes as they did so. Zavala was the easiest to read, Ikora the hardest and Cayde-6 fit somewhere in between. It was no secret that the Vanguard weren’t exactly pleased with the Collector’s work, it was old news to them.

“What have you found, Collector?” Zavala asked after a moment, “How many this month?”

“On Mercury, thirty. On Venus, twenty-six. Mars yielded a further fourteen, while the Cosmodrome held seventeen.” The Collector replied dutifully, head held high and helmet a blank white; indifferent to the Vanguard’s varied opinions on their job.

“That many on Mercury?” Cayde piped up, looking at the white-clad Warlock (who, frankly, looked big enough to be a Titan) and received a nod in response.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. That’s just this month alone. I seem to be finding more and more there.”

“Have you visited Phobos?” Ikora asked calmly, the Collector shaking their head.

“Not yet, Ikora. There are many places on Earth I haven’t yet been to, let alone the rest of the system.”

“What about the Hellmouth?” asked Zavala.

“No. I was hoping to go through Sol systematically, but the pull of the dead comes from all over and in no particular order.” There was an uncomfortable moment of silence that washed over the Hall at that statement, everyone from the Vanguard to the staff shifting in discomfort at how indifferently the Collector referred to what they were recovering.

“I see. Thank you.” Zavala nodded, quiet and lips drawn into a firm set line. “Dismissed.” He said, devoid of emotion in his tone as the Collector bowed their head and took their leave. The room fell back into an uncomfortable, palpable silence and tension after the Warlock had left, only broken by Cayde giving a static-laced burst of noise akin to a sigh.

“ _Man_ that guy is creepy.”

“Cayde.” Ikora said disapprovingly, shaking her head. “That is no way to talk about someone who is doing the work no one else will.”

“C’mon Ikora, you’ve gotta admit they’re a little creepy.”

“I will admit that what they do makes me uncomfortable, yes. To think about a dead Ghost is upsetting as it is, and to think of someone willingly giving themselves to the task of bringing them home is even more so, but we should not regard the Collector as ‘creepy’.” She replied, voice firm but with a hint of agreement in what Cayde was saying. Just a hint.

Zavala remained silent, staring down at the report he’d been given by some Titan earlier that he hadn’t yet put down. His eyes just stared blankly at the screen, not at all reading any of the words on it. After the Collector’s reports, the Awoken always found himself like this – unable to focus, mind drifting to a thousand thoughts and distractions until he was unable to refocus altogether. Gently, he set the tablet down and moved away from his station. Cayde barely bat an optic at the movement, already engrossed in his map as was customary for the Exo after a meeting with the Collector, while Ikora looked up at the Commander.

“I will be taking my break now, Ikora.” Zavala said quietly, the Warlock Vanguard nodding without a word. She never needed to say anything in moments like these, the look in her eye said it all. Understanding, compassion, sorrow. She watched Zavala move away and slowly walk out of the Hall before focusing back on her many, many books in front of her. It was going to be a long day, and Ikora’s Ghost drifted just a little bit closer to her.

 

* * *

 

 

Zavala’s mind was a blur of thoughts as he walked out of the Hall, nodding to Shaxx on the way past but not stopping to receive the usual nod in return. For some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the Collector’s report was bothering him just a little more than usual this morning. Alright, a _lot_ more than usual, but Zavala just wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like anything had changed in the way the reports were done, nor how the Collector spoke or acted. Certainly the statistics kept going up, but that was only to be expected when you were engaged in a war with many enemies in the solar system.

The Titan didn’t register exactly where he was walking to until he’d reached the plaza and had stopped just past the Postmaster’s kiosk. His natural instinct when he was feeling so tangled in his own thoughts was to head to Traveller’s Walk, talk with the Speaker or just enjoy the silence away from the hubbub of the rest of the Tower, but in present times that was becoming a lost cause. The Collector so frequently went there to deal with their… findings… that there was no getting away from the misery they unwittingly invoked and it wasn’t as if Zavala could leave the Tower and escape into the City below either.

A frustrated sigh left him as he stood there, abandoning his direction towards Traveller’s Walk and instead just moving over to the railings in the plaza that overlooked the City below. The sight always calmed him somewhat, a gentle reminder that this is what he’d fought for and continued to fight for. That no matter how many dead Ghosts came back to the Tower, there were plenty more lives _thriving_ down below because of their sacrifice.

A sacrifice he’d enforced.

No, no, he hadn’t enforced it. Zavala had given every Guardian a _choice_ to go to these places, he could never force them. Each Guardian had accepted the missions offered, and more had come back compared to those that perished. It wasn’t his fault.

But he should’ve done more.

Except there wasn’t much more he _could_ have done. He was needed at the Tower as the Titan Vanguard, he couldn’t well _leave_. He had a duty to do here, just as Ikora and Cayde did, and the Tower needed him _here_.

“Zavala.” His Ghost said softly, materialising beside his head.

“I won’t be much longer.” He responded, knowing full well that wasn’t what his Ghost was saying his name for. His Ghost didn’t say anything else, just drifting closer before settling on his shoulder and cuddling up to his neck. For a brief moment a smile crossed Zavala’s lips, his spirits being lifted a bit as he felt the warmth from the little shell against his neck. Now he recalled why the Collector’s reports disturbed him so much – Zavala couldn’t stand the thought of his own Ghost ending up like the others, broken and suffering and abandoned by destiny.


	2. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Zavala on break to assess matters and refocus his mind, Ikora finds herself in quiet turmoil over the Collector's work.

Ikora watched Guardians come and go, many of them looking to talk to Zavala, and she hardly spoke a word to any of them. Few approached her, receiving the bare minimum of a response before going on their way to continue their work. The Warlock Vanguard was unusually distracted, her mind in a thousand places and not at all with the few Guardians who required her. She caught herself staring blankly at one of the pages of her many books, blinking a few times before stepping away. Ikora couldn’t take her break just yet, not while Zavala was on his, as it was an unspoken rule that two of the Vanguard had to remain on duty while the other was on break during daylight hours. She remained vigilant in appearance, staying put at her station and going over some of her books to try and take her mind off of the Collector. It wasn’t working very well.

As much as Ikora appreciated the work of one of her Warlocks, it still concerned her. The impact such a self-apposed duty must create, the toll on the poor soul carrying that unending task out… it was something she’d rather not think about, and yet here she was. The Collector always seemed so _calm_ , peaceful almost, in spite of what they did on a daily basis. There was never a hint of anger or distress in them anymore, though Ikora couldn’t trace a time when there _was_ such emotion evident in their soothing voice. She had to give credit where it was due, they certainly had excellent control on such matters. Ikora didn’t know a single Guardian who could deal with such a burden so unflinchingly.

Well, maybe Osiris could have.

Alas, Osiris did not possess the near purity the Collector did. He had been too easily swayed, while the Collector remained steadfast and immovable. A slight twitch of a smile graced Ikora’s lip as she recalled the time when Zavala stood still for eight days straight, shaking her head a little before it vanished. It somewhat distressed her to see Zavala so shaken after the Collector’s monthly reports, for someone so resilient to be upset at the talk of deceased Ghosts. That said, it was no different to her current state. She was thoroughly distracted now, and she couldn’t even leave the Hall to work through her thoughts and she _definitely_ couldn’t leave Cayde in charge. They’d be attacked the second she left if Cayde was in charge.

“Somethin’ bothering you, Ikora?” Cayde said, having been watching Ikora for a little while now and surprisingly without her noticing. The Warlock looked up at him, nodding.

“Just a little.” Ikora admitted, Cayde nodding slightly in understanding.

“Don’t blame ya, its weirding me out too. And don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know that’s why Zavala left.” The exo said quietly, looking at his fellow Vanguard with dimmed optics. Ikora gave a sigh.

“I will admit, it’s unsettling at this point. To hear monthly reports of how many we’ve lost in the past, and how long it’s taken for them to be found, and how many the Collector continues to find that are _recent_ …” She said softly, eyes growing distant in thought. This was going to be something she intended on meditating on later.

“Yeah, it… it sucks, y’know? Knowing we sent ‘em out there.”

“We gave them a choice.”

“Oh, I know, but you gotta wonder sometimes.” Cayde said, almost cryptically before returning to his maps. Now that had Ikora thinking. Was it truly their fault they lost so many Guardians? A part of her didn’t want to believe it, but there was some truth in the matter. So many Guardians possessed the desire to please their Vanguards that they took on the most dangerous of missions to fulfil that desire, and so many lost their lives because of that. Because of _them_. The Collector’s work reminded them of this, whether it be through their monthly reports or whenever they heard the hushed murmurs from Guardians that they had returned to the Tower with a new haul of Ghosts.

A brief chill worked its way down Ikora’s spine, making the fine little hairs on her neck stand up. She daren’t think of what the day might be like when her own Ghost was retrieved and set free. There was a little bump against her shoulder and Ikora turned her head, seeing her Ghost settling there having sensed her distress. Again, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and in return Ikora’s Ghost wiggled its little fins. The Warlock Vanguard gave an ever so soft laugh, shaking her head and turning back to her work, finding her innermost turmoil calm itself to nearly nothing at least for a little while longer. At least until the next monthly report.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shwoop, thanks for taking the time to read this! I'll try and get Cayde's chapter out as soon as I can, but things with my uni course and general are really starting to busy up. Don't expect super frequent updates to The Collector series, because it's sort of as-and-when I think of ideas and feel confident enough to write them/have the time. But I'm glad you've (hopefully) enjoyed this concept nonetheless!


	3. Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories are brought to the fore for Cayde-6 following the Collector's monthly report. He doesn't appreciate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep yep yep yep yep I've taken fifty million years to update I know I know but it's here I've done it this is finished! I hope you enjoy the last chapter of 'How Many This Month?' !
> 
> HEADS UP: If you haven't read 'Guide Them Home' I will suggest you do so before continuing to understand the Collector's job, as it is the first part of (hopefully) many in The Collector series! If you already have read it, thank you and enjoy!

“We gave them a choice.”

“Oh, I know, but you gotta wonder sometimes.”

Cayde’s words circulated his head in the silence a couple of times, optic ridge furrowing just a tad. He _did_ have to wonder if they gave Guardians a choice, namely because of the way they presented the mission statements.

The Hunter shook that trail of thought off quickly, returning to his maps and staring down at the supply caches he’d marked out and cross-referenced with reports from his scouts. There was quite a few clustered in one area. Cayde had to wonder if the Collector ever came across clusters of Ghosts like that. He suppressed a shudder and felt his Ghost tug at their Light bond.

_“Cayde.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Don’t worry about it.”_

_“Duly noted.”_

Cayde appreciated his Ghost’s worry, knowing she could sense his distress at the thoughts bugging him. Whenever the Collector stopped by the Hall, Cayde always felt a deep sense of sorrow fill him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe not since Andal… Hm. Let’s leave that one _well_ alone, Cayde thought as he retrained his optics on his maps. He couldn’t quite bring himself to focus on them anymore, the Collector’s reports had bothered him too much. All in all for the month the Collector had found eighty-seven Ghosts. _Eighty-freakin’-seven_. That wasn’t right, that _couldn’t_ be right. Every last one of Cayde’s reasoning circuits was screaming at him that it couldn’t possibly be right and yet logic told him that it was because this was the Collector’s _job_.

Cayde guessed that it wasn’t as bad as the immediate aftermath of Twilight Gap. The Collector had been in the field nonstop for months at a time before reporting back to the Tower. Everyone had sort of assumed that there hadn’t been that many Guardian deaths, but the amount the Collector brought back after extremely thorough searches told otherwise.

He had to wonder if it ever really got to the Collector like it got to the Vanguard and the Guardians around them.

A little beep from Cayde’s Ghost signalled an incident with a couple of Hunters he needed to see to, something about a Nightstalker misfire in the barracks. Great.

* * *

 

If Exos could get a migraine, Cayde had the equivalent. He slowly made his way back to the Hall, seeing Zavala stood back in the little grooves in the floor that marked his specific space at the head of the war table. Man, not even _that_ analogy got a chuckle out of the cocky Hunter Vanguard. Cayde supposed it was something to do about the Collector’s report _still_. In fact, now that he thought about it he could still remember the day the Collector had brought back Tevis’ Ghost. He’d cursed the Tower down and had received a _very_ strong disciplinary action against him from the Speaker for it. Heh, while it was still tragic Cayde couldn’t help but smirk somewhat at the colourful profanities he’d yelled that day. He was still certain that he’d made Zavala go _bluer_ with the things he was saying.

Then another memory made its unwelcome presence known, slowing Cayde’s pace nearly to a halt at the Hall’s great heavy doors.

 

_It had been raining that day, Cayde could remember that distinctly. It had been almost torrential, harsh gusts of wind creating a gross breeze from where it worked its way down the exposed stairs and into the Vanguard Hall. He could remember how it made the aged papers of Ikora’s books ripple. The loss of Andal Brask stung them all so freshly, their wounds open for all to see and not a single one of them cared, least of all Cayde. He’d used his new work to bury himself away from the grief and mourning of the death of his best friend and mentor. They had all been immersed in their work, even Cayde despite the circumstances, when they heard heavy, wet footsteps of heavy, wet boots on their lovely dry floor. The usual rallying of Lord Shaxx fell silent in the wake of whoever had been approaching. The staff of the Hall fell silent and that had pulled the Vanguard’s attention from their work._

_“Vanguard.” A deep voice said calmly. Too calmly, Cayde remembered. They all stared at the soaking figure in white and blue Warlock robes. They’d forgotten they had left the Tower to attend to their duties for the day. They’d almost forgotten the significance of their duties until they saw the little broken shell cradled in their hands, raindrops trickling down the scorched and miserable-looking panels and over the cracked optic. “I apologise for intruding at a time such as this, but I felt this should be brought to you instead of going straight home.”_

_Cayde recalled how his core had almost frozen over, optics wide and body number than usual. He stared at how the little panels were bent and scorched, their usual bright pattern dull and scratched and burned out. He stared at how the little optic was dead and dull, a large crack and several bits of the little sturdy glass missing. His core ached. That was Andal’s Ghost. That was Andal’s Ghost that had gone missing shortly after the catastrophe of the Vanguard Dare the two Hunters had carried out._

 

Cayde couldn’t accurately recall what had transpired after he’d recognised the shell, only really that he’d come to his senses in his quarters. Zavala had been on his left, Ikora on his right and his Ghost curled to his neck beneath his hood. From what the other two had reluctantly told him, Cayde had been overcome with raw emotion when he’d seen Andal’s Ghost as the pain of losing him was so fresh. Apparently it was nearing hysteria before the other two had him restrained.

As far as Cayde could tell there hadn’t really been a time before then where he’d completely lost himself. Then again, there hadn’t really been anyone he’d gotten so attached to that the loss of would warrant such a response.

 _“Cayde.”_ His Ghost poked gently.

“ _Yeah?”_

_“Ikora’s looking at you. You’ve stopped walking.”_

_“Oh. Right, yeah thanks.”_

_“It’ll be alright.”_ His Ghost comforted, largely unprompted save for the undoubted distress she was also feeling.

“ _Thank you.”_ Cayde replied gently through their bond, looking at where his Ghost hovered diligently by his side before carrying on into the Hall. His core ached as he returned to his station and immersed himself into his work without hesitation.

The Collector’s work had caused him his fair share of pain, and while he’d never really been in charge of sending Guardians to go and do pretty terrible missions and strikes Cayde understood why it unsettled Ikora and Zavala respectively. They all had their own reasons to dislike the Collector and their work, each as personal as the last, and Cayde wasn’t sure if they’d ever come to terms and be at peace with their duty.

He spared a quick glance to Ikora and Zavala, smiling a little at the both of them and receiving small courteous smiles in return. They were all feeling the effects of the monthly report, and they were most likely going to continue to feel it for hours afterwards. Best to spend it in one another’s company and work through it together as usual until they were well again. Well, until the next monthly report, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so this one got long and carried away because I was just struck with ideas like 'YES I MUST' and I'm well aware that the Cayde chapter is waaaaay longer than Zavala's and Ikora's. While I love Cayde's character, I also do adore the other two and this isn't me playing favourites, I just got far too carried away with ideas plus I've literally? Never written? Any of them? I struggled with Ikora and just about managed with Zavala, and I do regret not writing more for them but it would've just been shit tbh.
> 
> I did a vague adaptation of the Vanguard Dare and Andal's death in this chapter, so please don't light me up if things aren't accurate or 'that isn't how it's alluded to going' because 1) I'm tired, 2) I don't care and 3) I couldn't be arsed to look up any of the tidbits of lore for Andal this is just my interpretation good GOD
> 
> But other than that, thank you for following this fic! Let me know in the comments if you'd like to see another story based on the general feelings of Guardians towards the Collector, or other NPCs, or a story surrounding the Collector doing their job in the field! If you have any other suggestions for stories, hit me up!


End file.
